


Education

by tastewithouttalent



Category: Soul Eater
Genre: Alcohol, Crack Relationships, F/F, Girls Kissing, No Plot/Plotless, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sexual Experimentation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-25
Updated: 2014-12-25
Packaged: 2018-03-03 02:12:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2834378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tastewithouttalent/pseuds/tastewithouttalent
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Tsubaki’s smile flashes wider, she ducks her head in what is almost a nod of greeting as she slides onto the stool alongside Marie. 'I didn’t expect to see you here, Miss Marie.'" Marie has a dilemma and Tsubaki offers a very direct solution.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Education

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bluenarcbird](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=bluenarcbird).



Marie firmly believes there is nothing wrong with drinking alone. A drink or two is healthy, she reminds herself; moderate alcohol intake can relieve stress and all its associated health issues, and goodness knows she could certainly do with less of that. And it’s her second, and last, glass of wine the bartender is pouring for her, that hardly counts as drinking to excess. She’ll barely be tipsy for the walk home, or to what will serve as home in the short-term until Lord Death finds a new assignment for her and her abilities; there is nothing at all to be ashamed of in what she is doing.

She’s still hunching in over the bar counter, though, feeling imagined judgement from nonexistent patrons, feeling like the entire  _world_  is watching her drink alone at a bar and so on-edge that when there’s a touch at her shoulder she startles and nearly falls off her chair.

“Yes?” It’s surprise as much as a question, a greeting and inquiry at once, and then she blinks and the comfort of an apologetic smile soothes off the edge of panic. “Ah, Tsubaki. Hi there.”

“Hi.” Tsubaki’s smile flashes wider, she ducks her head in what is almost a nod of greeting as she slides onto the stool alongside Marie. “I didn’t expect to see you here, Miss Marie.”

“Ah.” That title feels strange, ill-fitting in Marie’s ears and not even particularly apt, anymore. “Just Marie. I’m not your teacher anymore, now that Franken’s back.”

Tsubaki hums agreement. “Yes, I suppose so.” She doesn’t turn around to face the bartender -- there’s no way she’s old enough to order anything, Marie realizes -- but she does rest an elbow on the smooth-polished surface, tilts her head to the side so the loop of her tied-up hair swings over her shoulder. “What are you doing here?”

“Having a drink,” Marie says, since it’s true. Then she realizes how that sounds, attempts to backtrack herself into more accuracy. “Not more than one. Or more than two, actually. This is my last. Just to unwind a little, you know.” She looks away, down at the gold tint to the liquid in her glass. “It’s been a stressful week.”

“For all of us,” Tsubaki sympathizes. Her voice is gentle, soothing, like she’s easing some of the strain from Marie’s shoulders just by speaking. She sounds like she’s listening even when she’s the one speaking. “Are you going back out on another assignment now?”

“I don’t know,” Marie sighs. Staring into her glass it’s easy to answer, to let the weight of the situation slide off her tongue and lessen with the telling. “Soon, I’m sure, as soon as Lord Death has a new job for me. I might not even end up back in Oceania, where I was before.” Her exhale drags in her throat until it sounds nearly like a whine. “I  _liked_  Oceania. There wasn’t much to do. It gave me plenty of time to look for a husband.”

There’s a gentle laugh from Tsubaki, amusement without any of the edge that would turn it mocking. “Did you have a steady boyfriend out there?”

“Not even.” Marie lets her head drop forward against the bar. “I  _wanted_  one. But all the men I date break up with me after a few weeks at most. They say I’m clingy.” She lifts her head again, takes a swallow of her wine. “Which isn’t fair at all. I just want to be supportive, and there for them, and I can’t waste my time in relationships if they’re not serious too.”

“I’m so sorry,” Tsubaki starts, but Marie’s mouth has a mind of its own, now, she’s talking over the other without even thinking to pause. It’s not the alcohol that’s doing it; it’s just the fact of having someone to talk to, someone who is being sympathetic and kind instead of offering the rational coolness that Azusa gives anytime she listens to Marie’s troubles. It makes it so easy, to spill her history to that considerate tone, to announce the things that are hardly really secrets at all, anymore.

“And it’s not like I came back here with the intention of trying to reconnect with Franken. We never really had anything in the first place, even when we were students together. It’s just that --” She sighs, slow and heavy with all the years of unstated pining. “I had hoped, for such a long time, that something would come of it. It seemed only fair, like maybe I wasn’t able to keep a man because I was supposed to be with him all along, like that was the purpose of my life.”

“Did that not work out?”

Marie shakes her head. This mouthful of wine is larger than the last. “I was kind of waiting for him to notice me. And he was waiting for someone else. Which is great, I mean, I’m happy for him, but.”

“Yeah.”

“It’s just not  _fair_.” Marie turns away from the bar, pivots in to lean towards where Tsubaki is facing her. “And  _then_ , after all this, I get a  _confession_.”

Tsubaki’s eyebrows go up. “Is that good?”

“I don’t  _know_!” Marie half-wails. “It was from another  _woman_. I don’t even know how to respond to that.”

“Oh no.” Tsubaki still sounds sympathetic, but she’s smiling now, biting her lip like she’s fighting back the edge of a laugh. “Well, you’ll have to refuse her gently, right?”

“Well, that’s the thing.” Marie takes a breath, takes another swallow of wine. It’s nearly gone, now. “I’m. Not sure I  _should_.”

There’s a pause. “What?”

“I mean, if I don’t like women, then obviously, I can’t accept her.” Marie looks down at her glass, twirls it between her fingers. “But I don’t even  _know_. I never even thought about. How can you tell?”

“You’ve never thought about it?” Tsubaki is definitely on the verge of laughter, now. “Not when you were a student or a kid or anything like that?”

“No.” Marie shakes her head without looking up. “I like men, I knew that, and I still do, and I just never even considered the possibility.”

“Oh dear.” Tsubaki reaches out to touch the outside of Marie’s wrist. Her fingers are warm, gentle and steadying as her voice. “That probably needs to be the first thing you figure out, really.”

“I know.” Marie coughs a laugh, reaches up to push the weight of her hair back over her shoulder. “Great teacher I am, pouring out my woes to one of my  _students_.”

“I’m not your student anymore,” Tsubaki smiles. “You said so yourself, not since Stein took over our class again. Can’t we just be people together?”

Marie looks sideways. Tsubaki is still smiling at her -- Marie thinks the soft curve of her lips hasn’t given way since she sat down -- and her eyes are very dark in the dim lighting, shading into indigo against the flicker of her lashes.

“Besides,” she goes on, once she sees Marie is looking. “I might be able to help. I think I have more experience here than you do.”

She says it very calmly, for something that amounts to a confession. There’s no concern in her eyes at all; her expression in all is perfectly steady, her gaze not so much as flickering until it’s Marie who doubles back to question her understanding of what the other has just said.

“More experience?” She leans in closer, like they’re sharing secrets in the space between them. “You mean you -- with --”

“With other women, yes.” Tsubaki isn’t modulating her tone at all; the words are clear to hear, said in such an ordinary tone that Marie flushes, glances to see if anyone is within audible range. “I’m not embarrassed about it,” the other continues, and Marie goes darker, ducks her head so her hair falls forward to shade the glow of her cheeks. “That should really be the first step for you, you know.”

It’s a suggestion, if a gentle one. Marie can’t cool her cheeks, finally gives up and leans in so she can cover her face with a hand instead of attempting and failing to hide in shadows. “But I don’t even  _know_!” she wail-whispers, because just because  _Tsubaki_  isn’t shy about this doesn’t mean Marie isn’t. “How am I supposed to find out? I can’t go on a date with someone as an  _experiment_ , that’s hardly fair to them.”

“You just need something casual,” Tsubaki says, and she makes that sound easy too. “With someone who knows that’s all you’re trying to do.”

Marie whimpers, desperate half-voiced protest at this claim of simplicity. “How am I supposed to go about having  _that_  conversation with someone?”

Tsubaki doesn’t answer. After nearly a minute the silence has stretched so long Marie lifts her head from her hands, looks up to see what she’s missing. Tsubaki is still watching her, still smiling, but there’s something a shade darker, a bit more knowing, under her expression. Marie stares at that for another several seconds, reaching for explanations or clarity of what she’s seeing.

It’s not until she backtracks through the last few things they’ve said that she pieces it together.

“Oh.” She looks away, stares into her mostly-empty glass. “ _Oh_.” The wine suggests a short-term solution; she lifts it to her mouth, swallows back the last of the liquid to buy herself a minute of time to frame her thoughts. “Are you suggesting…?”

Tsubaki’s laugh is bright with amusement, sparkling gold like the light off Marie’s glass. “I am suggesting what you think I am suggesting, yes.” She reaches out to curl her fingers around Marie’s wrist. Her touch is very warm, warmer than anyone Marie has touched recently even before she shifts her hand to interlace her fingers into the blonde’s and press their palms together. “Come with me.”

Marie follows. She is good at following, has always assumed that was part of her nature as a weapon, but that doesn’t seem to be true here; Tsubaki is just as much weapon as she is, and younger in addition, but she’s quietly confident in maneuvering them out of the bar and out into the cooling temperature of the night. In the wider street they can fit in alongside each other, walk down the sidewalk side-by-side while Tsubaki takes a breath and begins to enumerate specifics, details Marie never even thought to consider.

“We can go back to my apartment,” she starts, tugging at Marie’s hand to turn them down an unfamiliar street. “Black*Star is usually at home but he’s out tonight, and he doesn’t usually come back until very late if he manages at all. And he knows to find another place to stay if I lock the door.” The pressure of her hand is comforting, just tight enough to make her leading clear without even approaching the edge of pain; Marie considers that Tsubaki must be a very good dancer with this delicacy of control.

“I can lead,” Tsubaki goes on as the round another corner, come out of what now appears to have been a shortcut into the yellow glow of streetlights along a main street. “All you have to do is tell me what you’re comfortable with, okay?” She glances back, flashes a soft smile, and Marie blinks, nods because agreeing seems the easiest decision. “If you want me to stop you can say so at any time, no matter what.” They start up a winding flight of stairs to a second floor apartment with a row of flowers set against the street-facing window. “It’s just to see what you like.”

“Why?” Marie finally manages, as they come out from the stairwell and Tsubaki reaches to try to the door. It turns without needing to be unlocked, opens into the darkness of the apartment before Tsubaki reaches for the lightswitch.

“Why what?” Tsubaki draws her inside, lets Marie’s hand go to push the door shut behind them and throw the deadbolt.

“Why are you doing this?” The apartment is tiny, a single room with a narrow strip of a kitchen along one wall and a door leading to what Marie assumes is a bathroom, but it’s tidier than she expected for a place where Black*Star lives, even the sheets across the bed tugged into clean lines.

Tsubaki slips her shoes off, glances up to smile at the blonde. “Because it’s fun.” She straightens, reaches up to slide the tie on her hair free so the dark strands start to unwind across her back. “You’re very attractive, you know.” Her smile is gentle and so sincere Marie doesn’t even have the shape of a rebuttal to that compliment, much less the coherency for a graceful acceptance. “It would be a nice way to spend the night, and hopefully you’ll end up enjoying yourself too.” When she shakes her head her hair tumbles off her shoulders, fall into clean dark waves that draw Marie’s gaze. “Do you mind?”

Marie has to swallow, look away from Tsubaki’s hair to focus on her face instead so she can draw her thoughts into the shape of attention. Her pulse is fluttering fast in her throat, her hands are trembling with adrenaline, but just because she’s shaking doesn’t mean she’s scared, exactly, just nervous with the first edge of what might be excitement under her skin.

“No,” she finally manages. “I don’t mind.”

Tsubaki gives her a smile that brings all the warmth of a blush rushing to Marie’s cheeks; she has to duck her head to hide the uncontrollable smile that tries to echo onto her lips, crouches instead so she can pull her own boots off. When she gets back to her feet and dares to look back up Tsubaki is closer than she was before,  _much_  closer, stepping in up to the edge of Marie’s space before she reaches out to touch the other woman’s wrist and draw their fingers back together.

“Is this okay?” she asks, conscientious in the question even though Marie is smiling, the pleasure of contact breaking the last of her resistance to the expression. It’s a comfort, the care in the question, and Marie doesn’t even think about whether it’s deliberate or not before she nods, clears her throat to say, “Yeah” aloud for clarity.

“Good,” Tsubaki says. “I’m going to kiss you, okay?”

Marie’s blood pounds hot in her veins, rushes up through her skin, and she can’t manage a vocal response this time. She does nod, though, a quick motion before she can lose her nerve, and she turns her head up, takes a breath of anticipation, and shuts her eye as Tsubaki leans in closer to sigh against her lips.

It’s very gentle. Marie has plenty of experience with kissing, expected this to be basically the same as kissing men, but it’s softer, warmer and more careful, and maybe that’s a function of the fact that Tsubaki is another woman but maybe it’s just Tsubaki herself, leading so gently Marie almost can’t tell she’s being directed. It certainly doesn’t feel like she’s being urged to open her mouth; she just does, parts her lips so Tsubaki can touch her tongue to the inside of the blonde’s mouth, press against the other woman’s tongue and drag ticklish friction against the roof of Marie’s mouth before they pull apart to breathe. Marie’s skin is flushed hot across all her body, warmth spreading down against the back of her neck and across her cheeks, and that at least is perfectly familiar, this hazy pleasure in the friction of someone else’s mouth on hers.

“Do you want to move?” Tsubaki asks. Her voice is still even and calm, but her eyes are darkened until they look almost black, the curtain of her hair is turning her into something older and wiser than she appears in class.

“Sure,” Marie says, and when Tsubaki pushes back against her shoulder she steps back without looking where she’s going, trusting in the other woman to guide her where she should go. Her path is clear, she moves backward without having to look away from Tsubaki’s face, and the other draws her to a stop after a few steps, warns, “The bed’s right behind you.” Marie takes the last step, carefully so the mattress just bumps her leg before she sits back against the tidy lines of the sheets, and Tsubaki is coming in to sit next to her, close enough that the warmth of her leg is pressed soft against Marie’s from hip to knee.

Her fingers are as gentle on Marie’s neck as they were on the blonde’s wrist; she brushes back the other woman’s hair, trails her fingertips against the back of the other’s neck, and Marie shuts her eye, hums at the pleasure of the contact as Tsubaki asks, “Is this still okay?”

Marie nods, blinks her eye open to watch Tsubaki lean in for another kiss. She’s a little more aggressive, this time, pushing a little harder and a little quicker to touch her tongue to Marie’s lips, and that’s as much as Marie really has time to notice before she stops cataloging the experience and just starts to experience it. Her thoughts haze over into instinct, her fingers are pressing into Tsubaki’s hair without any thought on Marie’s part at all, and when Tsubaki pushes tentatively at her waist Marie falls back to the bed without waiting to be asked if it’s okay. Tsubaki follows her, presses her down against the bed with fingers at Marie’s shoulder and the back of her neck, and she’s softer than a man too, curved and warm and pliant even as she settles in against Marie’s body, and Marie’s heart is beating faster than she ever expected it to in this situation.

“This is okay,” she offers as Tsubaki pulls back, before the other has a chance to even ask. Tsubaki laughs approval, ducks her head to kiss just under Marie’s ear, and Marie tips her head to the side, listens to the sound of her breathing coming faster as Tsubaki’s fingers slide down from her throat to trail gently across the top edge of her neckline. The friction of her fingertips leaves fire in its wake, drags heat that radiates out into Marie’s skin and leaves her breathless and trembling for some unspecific  _more_.

“How are you doing?” Tsubaki asks against her neck, pressing her lips into a kiss while she slides her hand back up, faster than she came down and sweeping sensation in her wake.

“Good,” Marie insists, though her voice is shaking and her hands aren’t much better; Tsubaki must be able to feel the way she’s trembling in the fingers at her skin, though she doesn’t say anything. She just takes a breath, hums comfort into Marie’s skin as she eases her fingers just under the neckline of the blonde’s dress.

She doesn’t go very far; her fingertips are still high on Marie’s chest, well within the range of what would be bared by a different top. But the fabric over her fingers makes the touch intimate, grants it intention it wouldn’t have alone, and Marie’s throat closes up so her exhale comes out like more of a whimper than she intends it to as her skin flashes radiant with electric heat.

“Okay?” Tsubaki asks, and Marie arches up instead of answering aloud, encourages the slide of the other woman’s fingers as she turns her head in for another kiss. She can just hear Tsubaki laughing softly before the soft of her lips is back, drawing pleasure through Marie’s veins to counterpoint the slip of her fingertips down across flushed skin until her thumb catches at the edge of the blonde’s bra and there’s no question of the implication anymore.

Tsubaki doesn’t dip under the lacy edge of the fabric right away. She lingers where she is, brushes her fingers against the edge of the bra the same as she did with the neckline of Marie’s dress, trailing up and down for a minute before she lets her hand drift lower to trace out the pattern of the fabric under her palm. Marie knows she can’t reasonably feel the warmth of Tsubaki’s hard through the barrier of the fabric, but the faint friction of the pressure is enough for her skin to light up until she feels like she’s glowing, the knowledge that someone else is touching her and the promise of more enough to stick in her throat and flutter her pulse into double-time in her veins. The adrenaline rises, levels off, thrums in her chest and flares under her skin -- and Tsubaki doesn’t move, seems fully content to keep her palm pressing against the heavy weight of Marie’s breast without dipping inside the fabric to give the blonde more sensation.

“Tsubaki,” Marie finally manages, when she can’t arch any farther off the bed and her whole body is starting to hum itself raw on anticipation. “Keep going?”

She meant it as an order, or a request, but it comes out as a plea, her voice trembling into a question without intention. It doesn’t make a difference, in the end; Tsubaki hums again, a tiny pleased noise that might be a laugh and might just be delight, and this time when she slides her hand up she catches at the edge of Marie’s bra, slides her hand inside and against bare skin, and her fingers are radiant and her touch is gentle and Marie falls back to the bedsheets and lets out a breath of relief. She’s warmer now than she was before but the tension has faded, eased off into expectation and shivering satisfaction as Tsubaki’s fingers press in against aching skin, brush against her nipple and the underside of her breast.

Tsubaki doesn’t wait for permission for more, this time; Marie isn’t sure if it’s intuition or just that the blonde is breathing hard enough that her agreement is perfectly clear. Either way, Tsubaki sits up to free her other hand, slides her fingers back across Marie’s shoulder, and when the blonde twists sideways Tsubaki’s fingers seek out the bra clasp unerringly, unclipping it so the fabric falls loose under the tension of Marie’s dress.

“Let me --” Marie offers, pushing up off the mattress so she can start to slide her dress off her shoulders. She only intends to slip her bra free before tugging the fabric back up into place, but Tsubaki’s reaching out to slide across her skin with both hands, smiling with that shadowy undercurrent of knowing, and fumbling her dress back into place seems a lot less important with the heat of the other woman’s touch at her skin. Tsubaki pushes the bra straps off Marie’s shoulders, lets the clothing fall to the floor, and she’s leaning in closer, sliding one knee in between Marie’s legs to press her thigh high against the other woman. She’s not really that close yet, but the drag of motion against the inside of Marie’s thighs is enough to stall the blonde’s breathing, bring her chin dipping down to hide her face behind her hair while she tries to fight the urge to slide her legs wide in offer. She doesn’t entirely succeed in this attempt, only manages to keep the movement of her knees to a few inches instead of several, but it’s still enough for Tsubaki to fit her leg in higher, to rock her weight in so Marie shudders with sensation, and then they’re both slipping backwards over the sheets until Marie’s flat on her back again. Tsubaki’s fingers are sliding over her, her palm catching friction while her nails trail gentle sensation, and Marie is breathing harder and still shaking and then she realizes that  _she’s_  not doing anything herself, that her hands are fisting into the sheets under her and Tsubaki is still mostly dressed.

“Wait,” she says without thinking, and Tsubaki draws away instantly, leaning back and shaking her hair back from her face so she can blink at Marie. It’s gratifying, to know how quickly she’ll respond, but that isn’t actually what the blonde meant, and the miscommunication makes her flush self-consciously while she tries to explain.

“No, not that, I mean.” She comes up on an elbow, reaches out for the sash of Tsubaki’s clothes. “You’re still wearing everything, it makes it hard to reciprocate.”

Tsubaki’s eyebrows jump, her mouth curves into a smile, and she’s sliding away, out of reach so Marie starts to sit back up and reach for her before she realizes the other woman is unfastening the ties at the side of her dress. The awareness stops her motion, catches her breath, and Tsubaki tugs the fabric loose, lets it fall to puddle on the floor. Without the covering she’s left in just stockings and panties, and Marie probably should have realized she wasn’t wearing a bra but now there’s just a breathtaking expanse of white-glowing skin in front of her.

“Oh,” Marie says, and all her body is flushing hot and, well, that answers  _that_  question. “Yeah, I think I like women.”

“Good to know,” Tsubaki says, stepping back in to fit herself back into the blonde’s lap. Marie reaches out for her waist, lands her fingertips gently at the deep curve of the other woman’s skin, and she’s reaching up for the warm weight of Tsubaki’s breast before Tsubaki leans forward to press herself against the contact. “I guess we can stop here, then?”

It takes Marie a moment to parse that as teasing. Her “ _No_ ” is sincere and startled; then logic catches her up, points out that Tsubaki is pushing her back to the bed and shows no signs of pulling away, and the first burst of her laugh startles her with the bright warmth of the sound.

Tsubaki is smiling too, leaning in close enough that her hair slides over her shoulders and catches at the bare skin at Marie’s collarbones. “You’re never been with another woman, right?” Her elbow is settled against Marie’s shoulder, her fingers feathering through blonde hair, and fingers are tracing out the lower edge of Marie’s rumpled dress, pushing it up so slowly Marie can feel the question in the movement.

“Right,” she says, tips her hips up, and the movement feels awkward but it makes Tsubaki’s smile slip wider and urges her fingers higher, up the warm tremble in Marie’s legs and high over her thigh.

“Well then.” Tsubaki is falling into a gentle tone; Marie has the brief misplaced thought that she would make an excellent teacher, that she has a knack for patience, and then the pressure at her leg brushes the edge of her panties and that is enough to scatter any rationality yet clinging to her thoughts. “I suppose I can take you through that too.”

“Experience is important,” Marie agrees. She can’t relax, is pressing in against Tsubaki’s skin with fingers more desperate than skilled, and she knows she should be mustering more self-control but she’s sparking with electricity and all she can manage to do is seek out a point of grounding.

Tsubaki hums a laugh, purrs, “Yes,” in a tone of gentle condescension, and then her fingers are sliding under thin fabric and it’s enough, it’s satisfying even before she’s made it further than Marie’s hip. The contact is a promise, eases Marie back down to relax against the mattress, and she doesn’t protest when Tsubaki leaves her with a glancing kiss and pulls away so she can bring both her hands to the heat of the other woman’s skin. The elastic of Marie’s dark dress slides up easily, catches over the curve of her hips to collect around her waist, and Marie would be self-conscious if she didn’t feel so warm. Tsubaki’s fingernails trail gently over her waist, skim down the line of her hips, and she’s sliding the fabric of Marie’s panties off and down to her knees while the blonde is still shuddering from the faint ticklish sensation.

“You just need to remember to be gentle,” Tsubaki is saying, but Marie is barely listening; those fingers are dragging down her ankles, now, stripping her down to skin and heat and she doesn’t even attempt to restrain the involuntary motion of her knees that spreads her legs wider. She doesn’t sit up, isn’t sure she can support her own weight and is afraid of the self-consciousness that would accompany actually seeing how spread out she is, but she can tell where Tsubaki is from the pattern of kisses she’s leaving up the inside of Marie’s thigh, skimming higher and higher while her fingers settle in against the blonde’s hip, bracing hard enough to be a promise in itself.

“Everyone is different,” Tsubaki is continuing. Her words blow warm over Marie’s skin, close enough that the blonde trembles with involuntary expectation. “But start gently and adjust from there.” Her fingers at Marie’s hip tighten, hold the other woman down against the bed, and there is a touch, now, tracing over the fading imprint of Tsubaki’s lips. Tsubaki laughs, a noise more of anticipation than of amusement, and Marie is just taking a breath when a pair of fingers slide against her entrance.

She doesn’t jerk, doesn’t pull away or go tense; she  _does_  groan in anticipation, goes limp against the sheets, and then Tsubaki’s fingers are sliding carefully inside her and they  _are_  gentle, careful and delicate but pressing up at just the right point, curling with artistic skill that Marie appreciates even as heat ripples out all through her skin.

“It’s easy to tell what feels good,” Tsubaki is still saying, though Marie is far more captivated by her fingers than by her words. “If you just go slow.” There’s wet warmth at Marie’s thigh, a kiss with a flick of tongue like Tsubaki’s tasting her skin, and the fingers push in deeper, ease back to thrust in a little faster. “You like more than this,” and it’s true, Marie is shaking with anxious want and Tsubaki is moving faster in time with the shake in her thighs, pulling back to fit a third finger into her so Marie moans and shivers at the stretch.

“You have to be careful with your mouth,” Tsubaki says, that professorial tone back in her voice over an undercurrent of laughter. “But the same guidelines will work. Just be gentle.” The gust of her breath burns hot, impossibly close, and then her lips are against Marie’s skin, her tongue sliding out to find the other woman’s clit, and Marie’s vision is going white, she’s reaching out for the smooth fall of Tsubaki’s hair, and when she arches up she can feel Tsubaki’s laugh purr all through her body.

“ _God_ ” and there, she’s got her fingers around handfuls of hair and she’s tugging without meaning to, urging Tsubaki for more, faster, because she can’t see and she’s starting to shake all through her body but she wants  _more_ , is angling up and gasping from the need for harder, faster, deeper. Tsubaki is doing exactly that, sucking and touching the faintest edge of friction from her teeth against the blonde’s clit while her fingers come in farther, press thrumming sensation up against Marie’s body, and Marie takes a breath, and tips her head back, and wails a shuddering groan as her body shakes itself into pleasure. Everything goes warm, soft and glowing, and when Tsubaki pulls away to breathe a laugh Marie smiles, shuts her eye and lets her breathing fall back into place.

When she blinks herself back into awareness, thinks to push herself upright, Tsubaki is rocked back on her heels on the floor, watching the blonde’s face with an expression closer to curiosity than impatience. She looks like some model of perfection, her dark hair tangling around pale shoulders and the curve of her breasts coming into her waist before hourglassing back out to her hips.

“You’re beautiful,” Marie says without thinking.

Tsubaki’s smile lights up her face, curves amusement into her eyes and tips her head with unvoiced laughter. “So are you,” she offers smoothly, gets to her feet and steps in so she can settle her weight on the mattress next to the other woman. “How are you doing?”

“I’m good,” Marie says, but she’s thinking about something different, her gaze is falling to the faint glow of heat across Tsubaki’s skin. “What about you?” She reaches out, touches the outside edge of the other woman’s waist as the most suggestive she can manage with the delayed-reaction self-consciousness following in the wake of the heat in her blood.

“Do you want to?” Tsubaki asks with nothing but sincerity in her throat, as if it is only Marie’s interest that should determine their actions and none of her own desire.

Marie can feel her face going hot, has to duck her head to hide behind her hair, but she doesn’t pull her hand away, lets her hand slide lower by an inch while she swallows, and takes a breath, and manages an audible “Yes.”

Fingers slide into her hair, push the shadow back from her face. “Me too,” Tsubaki soothes, and the words take the sharp edge of anxiety off Marie’s thoughts like it’s evaporated into nothing at all. When she looks up Tsubaki is leaning in for a kiss, close enough that her skin catches on Marie’s, and this close the blonde can feel how fast the other woman’s breathing is coming, can feel the tiny shake in her fingertips.

“Okay,” Marie manages when Tsubaki ducks her head to take a deep breath. “What do I…?”

“It’s fine,” Tsubaki says. She slides one leg up under her, rocks her weight up over her heel; her fingers brush Marie’s wrist, gently urge the blonde’s touch lower, over her thigh and up against the smooth fabric of her panties. “I’ll help.” She’s warm, radiant and soft under Marie’s shaking fingers, and then Tsubaki pushes the cloth aside and she’s wet, too, slick and liquid around Marie’s fingers like she’s melting. Marie takes a sharp breath and twists in closer, reaches out for the soft give of Tsubaki’s waist as she slides her fingers over the other woman’s entrance, collecting heat and damp for a trembling moment of anticipation.

Tsubaki’s fingers tighten on her wrist, press directionless encouragement, and Marie curls her fingers and slides into the warmth of the other’s body. Tsubaki’s head drops forward to her shoulder, her hand in Marie’s hair forms itself into a fist, and Marie presses in deeper, thrusting hard until Tsubaki gasps, “Gently, Marie, be gentle” and she remembers to slow her motion. It feels wrong, too slow and too delicate, but Tsubaki is panting into her shoulder and Marie can feel her tensing against the blonde’s fingers in spite of the slow pace, responsive to even this careful friction. It feels like a dance, like some sort of choreographed action, the more so when Tsubaki pulls at Marie’s thumb to urge friction higher, to press against her clit so she shivers and closes her mouth against Marie’s shoulder to stifle her moan.

“Is this enough?” Marie asks, even though she can feel that it is, can recognize the tension curling into Tsubaki’s spine. She slides her other hand up higher, sweeping out from Tsubaki’s waist to press against the weight of her breast, and Tsubaki arches her back to press herself closer, to drag her skin across Marie’s palm. Everything is warm, wet and hot and shivering, and Marie is following the motion of Tsubaki’s responses like she would follow a meister, falling into a rhythm as easy as it is unfamiliar. Her movements are steady, even and smooth like she’s imitating her own heartbeat, but Tsubaki is breathing faster, pressing in closer and flushing hotter, and Marie is right in the middle of a thrust when the other moans into her shoulder and dissolves into rippling satisfaction. Marie can feel the waves breaking over Tsubaki in the tightness around her fingers, in the breathless quake of the other woman’s body against her hand, and her own breathing goes out-of-focus, shocked and overheated like she’s catching contagious aftershocks of sensation.

It takes a long time for Tsubaki to catch her breath. She’s leaning hard on Marie’s shoulder, the hand at the blonde’s hair slipping sideways to curl around the other woman’s neck, and Marie can hear her panting for air against her skin. But then she laughs, faint and delighted, and when she lifts her head she’s smiling like she’s just shared a secret.

“That was fun,” she says, leaning in to kiss at the side of Marie’s neck. Her lips are radiant as the rest of her, bleed warmth into the blonde’s skin. “Don’t you think?”

Marie blinks at the shadowed halo of Tsubaki’s hair, considers the languid satisfaction settling heavy into her body. Then she laughs, amusement spilling up from her throat before she can locate the cause, and turns her head to catch Tsubaki’s mouth with hers as the best answer she can offer.


End file.
